The Nightsaber
by harvestsunlight
Summary: When Zen'jakar stumbles across an abused nightsaber in a furbolg camp, the hunter takes her, thinking he'll be the envy of all his friends having her as a pet. Except she's no ordinary saber, and it's only a matter of time before she remembers...
1. Chapter 1

_How did it all go wrong? One moment Alathdrus is conversing with the leader of the furbolg clan, and the next he's holding his throat as his lifeblood gushes forth, a huge gash opened by the sweep of a bear-man's claws. I hear shrieking, and wonder who is making all the noise, before I realize it's me. I gather my wits as Sanalea yanks me back, shooting a wave of healing energy toward my fallen lover. I can see in his eyes that it's too little, too late. He crumbles to the earth in a bloody heap. "No!" I scream. I call on the power of Elune and shift my form. Now I am the one who slashes and claws. I am the one who rends flesh and draws blood. I am vengeance made flesh. But there are so many of them. Were there this many before? They're coming out of the forest from all directions. They are huge and vicious. The stench of Fel blood fills the air, floods my mouth. I see members of my party, blue and purple skin, now covered in red. Sanalea disappears beneath a furry brown body. I roar my battle cry and leap in her direction. I never see the mace as it meets my skull. I never feel the ground as it rises to meet me._

* * *

This had just not been his week. First he broke his favorite skinning knife, then he got shafted on pricing for the furs he took to the auction house, and now it was pouring down rain and he was being randomly set upon by a pack of fucking drug-adled furbolgs. Zen'jakar was not a happy troll. Granted the dumb beasts were proving an excellent outlet for his frustrations.

"Lar'ja, take down the big one," Zen yelled to his raptor, as he ducked the clawed swing of another, before ramming a dagger into the chest of a third. The bear-man howled and stumbled back, giving him an opening to dash to the nearest tree and swing himself up to a reasonably safe height. While the big black and green lizard tore at his assigned enemy, the troll peppered the fel-tainted furbolgs with arrows. One down, shaft through the eye, next one foot pinned to the ground before two to the throat. All in all, the battle lasted less than ten minutes with six dead for the effort, and no survivors to run off for reinforcements. That's if the brutes would even think to do so.

Zen's lips widened in a grin and he tossed his tusks, an F-you at the dead bodies. He felt energized by the fight, blood singing in his veins. Lar'ja looked quite pleased with himself too, as he stomped his flattened foe into the muck. "Good boy," Zen praised as he hopped down from his perch, strolling over to pat the raptor on the neck. This earned him a few happy chirps and a nuzzle. "Shall we see if they're camp is around here and get out of the rain? Maybe we'll find something worth…well something." Not that he expected corrupted furbolgs to have anything of particular value, but it would be nice to get dry, maybe have a fire. It was getting on into the evening anyway.

As much as he hated just leaving kills, there wasn't a market for furbolg skins and he wasn't about to go eating the damn things. The scavengers of Ashenvale could have at them. A quick sweep for tracks found the trail back to the beasts' camp. It wasn't far. The rain was letting up now, though the light was waning. The camp, if you could even call it that, was little more than a hovel of two mud and thatch huts with a central firepit. Bones and waste were scattered all about. "Foul creatures," he muttered. Lar'ja parked himself quite merrily under the patchy roof of one hut, munching on the jerky Zen tossed him. The main firepit was drenched and useless, but there was a room for a small fire in the corner of the other hut, and thankfully some dry kindling inside. Steeling himself against the pervading stench, the troll striped out of his soaked mail and leather, laying them out to dry before setting a trap across the doorway and climbing into his bedroll to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

_Warmth. Sun. The storm must have finally broken. If I open my eyes, the forest will be a magical sight, fresh from the rain and teeming with birdsong. I don't bother. There's not much point. Why torture myself admiring what I can't have? My entire existence is within the bars of this cage. Lying in my own filth. Sometimes they toss me putrid scraps. I'm ashamed to say I eat them. Some days I'm kicked. Other days dragged out and beaten for their entertainment. No, it's better to keep my eyes closed. _

* * *

Zen woke to the sounds of the woods. Loa he loved this life. Just him and his pet, wandering the wild places, living for the thrill of the hunt; nothing and no one to tie them down. Sure he had to make his way back to civilization every so often. Sell his wares, pick up some supplies, find some willing female company for a night or two, but soon the hunt would call him back. He'd done his time as a soldier, slaughtering Alliance scum alongside his Horde brethren, even fought the Sourge for a time in Northrend. The whole truce thing never sat well with him though, not with his history. But that was no never mind. He still happily gutted any Alliance he stumbled across in his travels.

Stepping from the hut, Zen stretched to his full seven and a half feet, vertebrae popping loudly. Lar'ja was still out cold, twitching in his sleep. The troll wandered over and gave the reptile a gentle two-toed kick. "Oy, wake up you lazy git. I don't wanna have to hang round this dump all day. If we get a move on we can make Zoram'gar in a couple days. I need a drink." His rude awakening received an annoyed grunt in response, but the raptor rolled to his feet, punctuated by a full body shake and a toothy yawn.

Zen and Lar,ja had been inseparable since the troll first tamed him as a teen. He'd been intrigued by the raptor's unique dark coloring, which stood out boldly against the sands in Sen'jin. His black skin with bright green striping camouflaged quite well in the shadowed forest though. He'd been a challenge no doubt, but the years had mellowed him into a fine companion. They'd mellowed Zen too. The two made a vicious team in battle and had once been quite sought after for raids. However, these days they kept to themselves.

Once back in his mail and leather, Zen loaded up Lar'ja with his packs and the furs they'd collected. A quick glance around the camp showed nothing worth taking. As they headed out in a south-westerly direction, Zen caught sight of something strange behind the huts. It looked like some sort of cage with a pile of dirty furs in it. Odd. Ignoring Lar'ja's grunt, raptor speak for "I thought you were in a hurry to leave," he made a quick detour to investigate. Probably nothing, but you never knew unless you checked. The stench of waste and rotted meat wafting from the cage was almost overpowering as he got close. "Ugh, what were those bloody bastards doing?" He was about to turn away, figuring it could be nothing good, when the pile of furs moved. Zen immediately had his bow out and an arrow knocked, creeping closer in an alert crouch. He needn't have worried. The pitiful creature in the cage could not possibly have attacked.

On closer inspection, what Zen found just about broke his heart. It was a nightsaber, though in its current condition it could barely be called that. The great cat was skin and bones, covered in scars and open sores. It was so filthy he couldn't even tell what color it was. He stowed his bow and swiftly cut the cords holding the door shut. Slowly reaching in, he stroked the feline's head, murmuring quietly. The cat cracked its eyes, giving him a glimpse of silver, before hissing weakly. It had no strength left to protest.

"Lar'ja, get over here." The raptor approached with a clear look of distaste. Zen retrieved a leather strap from a saddlebag, which he gently tied around the saber's muzzle. It may be weak unto death, but it was obviously feral, or at least it was now. No sense in getting himself bit trying to help it. Mouth secured, he grabbed the cat's forelegs and pulled it out of the cage. "Oh, honey, what did they do to you?" As a hunter he cared about all animals. He loved his pets and honored the creatures he killed. This was an abomination. Nothing living should be treated like this. She, and he could now see it was female, had barely an inch of flesh that wasn't damaged. Her fangs were still intact, surprisingly, but her claws looked like they'd been hacked to bluntness with a blade. Her ribs and hips looked ready to poke through her skin. And Loa did she smell. Lar'ja's not gonna like this, he thought.

Hoisting the cat up, he draped her over the raptor's back, much to reptile's displeasure. "Shh, I promise I'll make it up to you. Can't leave the poor thing to die like this can we?" He thought he remembered a spring with a good size pool a little ways in the direction they were heading. He'd get her clean and patch her up there. Zen had no desire to stay in the foul camp a moment longer.


	3. Chapter 3

_I hear them open the door to my prison. Nothing good ever comes of that. Instead of claws piercing my skin to drag me out though, I feel a soft touch on my head. What are they playing at? It's a huge effort to open my eyes to see what my captors are doing. Someone is touching me, but the shape of the body seems wrong. With the sun behind him I can't really tell. No matter. The pain will come anyway. I hiss at him weakly, just to let him know I'm dead yet. That I still have some fight in me, though in all honesty I don't. Yet the pain doesn't come. Large, gentle hands cup my face, stroking my brows. Maybe I _am_ dead. This certainly can't be reality. Then something's wrapping around my muzzle, tying it shut. Ahh, a new form of torment, then. Let me think I've finally escaped this horrid reality, and take away my last defense. Now I'm being dragged from my prison. What will they do to me today? I feel myself lifted and laid across…something. It's moving. The sounds of the forest surround me._

* * *

It took them several hours to reach the glade with the spring. Zen was almost surprised the saber survived the short trip. _She must be a strong one_. Divesting Lar'ja of his burden, he carried her straight into the water, finding a rock he could prop her head on while her body soaked. It was going to take some work to get all the shit and blood out of her fur. He couldn't help but think she must weigh half what she would in a healthy state. Not that he knew much about nightsabers. They were typically the companions of the Night Elves. In fact, he couldn't think of anyone he'd come across amongst the Horde that had one. Fucking night elves. He couldn't stand those holier-than-thou dorei. Always thinking they were better than every other race. So what if they used to be immortal? They died just like anyone else when you stuck'em with a blade. He grinned wickedly at the thought.

Thinking about Night Elves was just going to piss him off though, so he stripped down to his loin cloth and rummaged through his pack for some soap and medical supplies. He wasn't sure what he might find once he got the caked filth off the saber. Better to be ready for anything. The cat hadn't moved when he got back to her. Obviously didn't have the strength to. He decided he might hate furbolgs as much as Night Elves. Almost. Slipping into the cool water, Zen painstakingly washed her fur, head to tail, repeatedly. She didn't offer any resistance, even when he was tugging at the mats along her belly. Most of a bar of soap later, he sat back to admire his handiwork.

The saber was a gorgeous silvery white shot through with pale purple spots in no discernible pattern. Her bone structure was lovely, refined and feminine, but with a wild grace. There was a strange marking on her left shoulder, like a crescent moon with a spot in the middle, and pairs of parallel lines, mimicking claw marks, cascading over each eye. They were a darker purple than her spots didn't look completely natural. His educated guess was that she was the former pet of some Night Elf and the markings were identifying tattoos. She was certainly too small to be a mount. _I wonder how well she's trained, _he mused_. _ _Damn, I'm already thinking of keeping her._ Zen's most pressing concern however, were the myriad sores and slashes scoring her hide. He gently cleaned each one, nearly gagging when he found maggots in a few. "You poor critter," he said, talking to calm and soothe her. "There ain't nothing you could have done to deserve this. But I'm gonna patch you up, stuff you full a food, and you'll be good as new before you know it." At that little speech she actually opened her eyes and met his. They were a stunning, glowing silver, and vastly intelligent. They were also resigned. She'd given up. "I know you can't understand Zandali, and if you belonged to a Night Elf, you'll only understand Darnassian, maybe Common. We'll work on that. You're old master better be dead, cause if they're not, and they left you in that place to rot, I'll dedicate my varied talents to hunting them down and giving them more than a taste of what you suffered. Count on it my girl."

It took ages to clean the saber, and even longer treat her wounds. A few required stitches, which she didn't even flinch at. At some point during the process Zen had sent Lar'ja off to hunt. He needed to get some food into the cat if she was going to survive. By the time his mount returned with a deer, Zen had settled the damp feline on a fur and had a fire going. He'd untied her muzzle and tried to get her to drink some water, but she just closed her eyes and turned away. "No you don't missy, you're not just gonna let yourself die." Eventually his persistence paid off and she drank a little, giving him a look that clearly said she was only doing it to get him to leave her alone. _Got some spirit left in her yet. _Quickly skinning the deer, Zen tossed the heart, liver and some blood in a pot to make a rich broth. No doubt she was severely anemic, in addition to dehydrated and starved. The blood and organ meat were just what she needed to regain her strength.

While the fortifying broth bubbled, Zen butchered the rest of the deer, setting aside the softer cuts for the saber and a few for himself before leaving the rest of the carcass to Lar'ja. The black raptor dug in with gusto, sending bits of meat and bone flying. Zen laughed, ducking as some gore flew his way. "You are the messiest eater I've ever seen, mon! Watch your manners in front of our new lady here." He was summarily ignored. "Don't mind him girlie," he said, sitting beside the cat and lifting her head onto his thigh. "He's a goodin' even if he eats like a heathen. Now try some of this. I promise you ain't never tasted nothing better." Zen dipped a large finger into the broth and rubbed it across her gums, trying to spark some interest. The saber didn't do anything at first, but he was patient and ultimately the tip of a long pink tongue came out to probe her lips. He dipped his finger again and offered it for her to lick. Glowing silver orbs watched him as he repeated the process until she was willing to lap from a bowl, a bit more enthusiasm appearing with every stroke. "That's my girl," he murmured, running his hand over her head and ears. When she finished the bowl and looked at him for more, he knew she was going to be ok. "No more for now. Your body ain't used to food. We gotta take it easy at first. Now you stay here and digest while I go have my own bath. I think all your stink washed off on me."


	4. Chapter 4

_What a strange creature I find myself with. I do not know what he is, but a nagging voice in my mind says I should. He is taller than my previous captors, through less bulky and furry. Dusky blue-gray skin covers lean ropes of muscle. I can tell just by watching him that he is very strong. He is beautiful; his movements graceful and precise. A natural predator … like me. Like I must have been. Once. I can't remember. He has long ivory tusks, longer than my fangs. They jut straight from his lips nearly a foot with a gentle outward curve, the tips turning up. How can he grab prey with those? I would sink my fangs into bear-man flesh any chance I got, though the taste of their blood made me gag. This being feeds me clean blood. I do not want it, but my body has a mind of its own. I find my rough tongue snaking out to lick the hot, delicious brew from the proffered digit. I watch his eyes as I do. They are a deep red, deeper than the blood he's offering. He speaks to me softly, but I cannot understand a word. Have I simply forgotten the language or did I never know it?_

_The creature strokes my head. It is wonderful to feel a gentle touch. I think I've felt one before, but not in a very long time. I want to purr my pleasure, but I don't. My instincts tell me to fear him. That buzz in my brain tells me he is the enemy. I ignore it. I am so starved for kindness I will take what I can get, even if he will turn on me the moment after next. I finish the blood, cleaning every drop from the bowl. I feel warmth in my veins that I have not felt in some time. I feel a bit alive again. The sluggishness that has plagued my every attempt at movement begins to melt away. My head no longer feels like a rock. I stare into the red eyes and silently ask for more, but he only shakes his head and speaks to me again in that incomprehensible, yet strangely beautiful, language. I want to growl my unhappiness at this, but instead content myself with watching the creature bathe. He did such a wonderful job with me. I tried so hard to keep myself clean and civilized at the start of my imprisonment, but found the effort futile and gave it up. Now clean, I feel reborn. Perhaps I want to live after all._

* * *

It was amazing how the act of thoroughly cleaning the cat resulted in him being so dirty. Zen sniffed at himself, wrinkling his nose at the pungent aroma of sweat, shit, blood and ointment. _Ugh, I smell worse than the furbolgs!_ He dove into the deeper water, relishing in the cool weightlessness, before breaking the surface and shaking water wildly from his long, midnight blue hair. Braids and beads clacked and smacked him in the face. Sudsing, he started with his four big blue toes, working up over powerful calves and thighs. His chest and back were decorated with swirling black tribal tattoos and the occasional scar, the largest of which formed a ridge from his armpit to navel. It was an old injury and he'd long since adapted to the tightness of the malformed skin. His dark blue nipples were pierced, along with his right brow. The left had another scar bisecting it. His long blue ears were decorated with multiple silver rings and studs. He was a fine example of a male troll in his prime. And like all male trolls, he knew it.

The nightsaber was watching him with those silver eyes of hers, head resting on her paws. He just couldn't get over how pretty she was, even in her damaged state. Quite the diamond in the rough. He'd be the envy of his fellow hunters with her at his side. And how many of them could claim to have mastered a former Alliance pet, especially a Night Elf's? The thought excited him all the more. First things first though. With this little delay they were still around two days out from Zoram'gar Outpost. They'd camp out here at the spring tonight and get any early start in the morning. The cat, despite her newfound perkiness, was in no condition to walk. She'd have to ride on Lar'ja again. Now that she didn't smell like a cesspool he doubted the raptor would make a fuss. They could afford to hang out in town for a couple weeks while her wounds healed and she put on weight. It would give him time to work on his backlog of skins anyway. Besides, it would be nice to sleep in a proper bed for a bit.

Finally satisfied that he'd gotten the rid of the stink, Zen waded back to shore and flopped down by the fire to dry. He absently finger combed his hair and surveyed his new pet. Yep, definitely a keeper. "Time to think of a name for you, girlie. I usually like to see how a pet hunts first, before naming, but it's gonna be a little while before you're ready for that, and I don't fancy calling you 'Cat'. Lar'ja there," he said with a laugh, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at the raptor, "went through a bunch a names before we settled on one. He still answers to 'pain in my ass.'" The raptor did indeed look his way just then, chirping in a questioning manner. "You know you are," Zen tossed back. The saber just lay where she was, watching him impassively. She still hadn't moved from her fur, not even to stretch or rearrange her limbs, but at least she held her head up and seemed interested in his commentary, even if she didn't understand it. He scooted over till he was sitting cross-legged in front of her. "I suppose you had a Night Elf name, but even if I knew what it was, I wouldn't call you by it. Better you have a good, strong Zandali name." He proceeded to run through a litany of troll words, rolling then around in his mouth, seeing if any stuck. "I got it! Luar-ke! A pretty name for a pretty lady. It suits you're coloring too. And those lovely eyes of yours." He rubbed her ears again, and scratched under her jaw.

Making pointed eye contact, he gestured at his chest and said "Zen'jakar." He repeated the motion, tapping himself. "Zen." He tapped her gently on the nose. "Luar-ke." "Zen," with a finger touching himself. "Luar-ke," with another tap at her. The saber stared right back at him then began to purr.

* * *

Thank you everyone who has reviewed thus far. It's greatly appreciated! This is my first posted fanfic, though I have several others in the works. I'm excited to know what people think.

In case anyone has been wondering where Zen's classic troll accent has run off to, I figured that he wouldn't have one when speaking in his native Zandali, which is all we've heard thus far. The accent comes out when he speaks other languages, which you'll see in the next chapter. Cheers!


	5. Chapter 5

_I have a name. Laur-ke. I repeat it over and over in my head. I have no idea what it means. The word is strange, just like the language, but I find I like it. My savior is Zen'jakar, his companion Lar'ja. Other strange words that have no definition. Zen. It suits him. I find myself liking him, and not just because he feeds me. Though his appearance is fearsome, I do not find myself afraid. I have quelled that nagging voice. I prefer Zen's voice. It is calming._

_Today I walk a few steps. My body screams in protest but it feels liberating to use my legs again. My muscles have all but disappeared. I can barely hold up my withered body, but still I make the effort, if only to prove something. To myself or to him I am not sure. Zen spoke words that sounded like praise. They were happy and made me feel the same. Happiness. A vague concept the voice has conjured a title for. I never felt it while held captive, yet it seems a familiar emotion. I must have been happy before._

_We are travelling somewhere. I couldn't say where. The forest changes little. Ashenvale, the voice whispers. Is that its name? Does a forest need a name? Ashenvale. If you say so, voice. I ride on the back of the creature Lar'ja, behind Zen. It is comfortable. There is a stack of furs tied to Lar'ja's back and I lie upon them. I watch the forest pass. There are many different trees and flowers, some small animals. For some the voice gives me names. I accept what the voice tells me. I have no reason to question it, except when it tells me to fear Zen. He gives me different names for things. Sometimes he'll point at something and say his word for it. I do my best to remember, though I cannot speak it aloud as he does._

_When we make camp the creature Lar'ja comes near to inspect me. He's not shown interest in me before. I find its colors pleasing. Black and green, like shadows and leaves. His mouth is full of large teeth, many more than my own, some nearly as long as my fangs. They are very close to my face as he sniffs me. I'm not very comfortable with that, so I hiss at him. Zen laughs and speaks to Lar'ja. It sounds like scolding. The black and green creature gives me a look before moving away. I envy his understanding of the words. Zen has started a fire and I lay on the fur he has given me beside it. I watch him as he cuts deer meat into fine strips which I suspect he will feed to me. My stomach rumbles. Now that it has tasted real food again it always wants more. My stomach speaks to me. My mind speaks to me. Will my tail speak to me next? I stare off into the forest instead. Ashenvale…_

_"Laur-ke," the creature, Zen, calls. "Troll," the voice in my head names him._

* * *

They reached Zoram'gar on the evening of the second day, Luar-ke draped across Lar'ja's back behind Zen. It wasn't a big outpost, but it had the necessary basics. And it was all Horde, not one of those gobin neutral towns. Zen never cared for mingling. Two orcs stood guard at the gate and he halted before them, hopping to the ground.

"Name, rank and nature of your visit."

"Good eve'nin tuh you tu, mon. My name be Zen'jakar. Ain't got no rank no more, jus a simple 'unter."

"What's your business here then?" The orc on the left asked. He was the typical green with bulging muscles and a chipped tusk.

"Jus lookin' tuh rest muh feet at da inn for a bit. Got skins need workin' an a pet needs healin'."

"Alright, you can enter," said the orc on the right. He was a smidge shorter than Lefty and had his long black hair tied up in a ridiculous looking foxtail.

"Pleasure doin' biz'ness witch yah," Zen replied, leading Lar'ja through the gate with a roll of his eyes. _I'm a damn troll. Who do they think I am? An Alliance spy?_ Zen liked orcs. Hell, his best friend back home was an orc, but some of them really were dumb as posts.

He'd visited Zoram'gar years ago but the place had been built up some since then. Strolling along, he glanced back at Luar'ke. She looked like a queen on high, lounging on her pile of furs, watching her subjects go about their business. Her wounds had scabbed over and life had returned to her silver eyes. He'd been teaching her Zandali words. She certainly seemed smart, and once she was mobile again he'd test her to see how much she'd absorbed. Till then he'd make her comfortable in the stable. Which was somewhere around here…

The stable was not where Zen remembered, but it was right next to the new and improved inn which pleased him. The stablemaster was an old orc, his hair thin and grey, with claw marks running over one whitened eye. _Risks of the trade I guess._ The orc shuffled out to meet him, running an appraising eye over Lar'ja.

"Fine raptor you've got there. Don't see those colors every day."

Zen gave a sage nod. "Yah mon, he be special."

"How long will you need to stable him?"

"Not sure yet. Meh'by a week, meh'by more. My otha pet's in bad shape. Needs some TLC."

"What you got there?" Zen stepped aside so the orc could see Lar'ja's passenger. "That's a nightsaber, friend. With Night Elf markings on it. What are you doing with one of those?"

Zen hoisted Laur-ke to the ground, where she sat leaning against his leg. "Found 'er in a furbolg camp few days ago. Poor girlie been put thru da ringer. I patched 'er up a bit, but she need some 'elp to 'eal full up."

"You thinking of keeping her? Don't seem so smart to me. Better not have any elves come barging through here looking for their lost cat."

"Nah, mon. 'Er old mas'ta be long gone an' dead. Ain't no one comin' lookin' fo 'er."

"You better be right about that. Well come on then. Let's get them settled."

The orc took Lar'ja's reins and walked into the stable. Zen was about to pick up Laur-ke but she wobbled forward on her own. _She's certainly determined_, Zen thought as he followed behind her. The stables were clean and airy, with clearstory windows letting in lots of light. The stablemaster led Lar'ja into one big stall and pointed to the one next to it for the saber. She lay down in the fresh straw immediately, worn out from her journey of twenty feet. Zen left her there to retrieve his packs off the raptor.

"So what's this one's name," the orc asked.

"He be Lar'ja. Means "dark" in da Zandali." Said raptor chirped and Zen gave him an affectionate pat.

The orc just grunted as he unbuckled the girth and bridle. Zen set his packs outside the stall, hunting through them for the cat's blanket.

"Let's take a look at this saber then," the orc said as he closed the stall door behind him. He ran an expert eye over her, noting the protruding bones and healing wounds. "She's in rough shape. It's going to take time to bring her back." Zen just nodded. "I've dealt with some starvation cases before. I'll mix up some special food and give her multiple small meals a day. You name her yet?"

"Yah, mon. Be callin' 'er Luar-ke."

"That another one of those Zandali names?"

"Means 'moon.'"


	6. Chapter 6

_I'm running through the forest, the moss thick and soft beneath my feet, the trees rising like columns to hold the leafy canopy above like a second sky. Flowers and vines twine around each one, bejeweling the trunks with a cacophony of color. Ahead a clutch of sunbeam spears have punched through to the ground, and I stop to spin and dance among them. I hear laughter, innocent and light, bubbling like a brook around me. It is the sweetest sound I have ever heard. Where is it coming from? There! A flash of pink. No, there! A fleeting glimpse of blue. The laughter teases me, floats around me like a specter. I know you're there… come out, come out! A giggle right behind me. I turn quickly to catch it. A face, delicate and small with glowing silver eyes. An infectious smile. A tiny five fingered hand reaching between the sunbeams to grasp mine. I look down to see it clasp its twin…_

_I wake. The sunlight is streaming through the clearstories, highlighting the dust motes in the air. I yawn widely, luxuriating in the softness of my bed, the easy warmth of the light. Blinking to clear my head, faint musical laughter fades away. I have the strangest feeling that I dreamt something important. But no, it's gone with the fog of sleep. I didn't dream while held captive. Not even nightmares. It's a strange new phenomenon. Most everything is a strange new phenomenon if I'm honest. I know I must have had a full and detailed life before the bear-men, but I have only what the voice chooses to tell me. The rest is simply gone._

_I halt my musings when two green figures appear. The voice told me they are called orcs. One I recognize as the old male from last night, but his companion is new. It is shaped differently from the others I have seen in my short tenure. Perhaps it is female. They converse in a harsh language I ignore. I do not wish to hear it. I want the beautiful sounds that Zen makes. The male enters my space clutching a bowl and some ointments. My eyes follow the bowl for it conveys the fare I desire above all else. The sweet, soft meats fuel this newfound life. When he sets it before me I offer a purr in thanks before diving in. I may never eat in the manner of Lar'ja, whom I can hear crunching bones nearby, but I believe Zen would be pleased with my enthusiasm. Speaking of Zen, I get a whiff of his scent; leather, forest and something spicy that I cannot name. It is a scent I have come to associate with safety and gentleness. Cleaning my muzzle with my rough tongue, I look around for him, but he's not there. I scent the air, drawing in a lungful, eyes closed and nose held high. Yes, there it is. Weak, but present. I open my eyes and focus on the figure before me, cocking my head in confusion. It's the female orc. Why does she smell like my Zen?_

* * *

"I be tellin' you mon, dey was furbolgs corrp'ted wit da Fel. Six ah 'em. Came outta nowhere an' jump't me an' my rapta." Zen was sitting at the bar of the inn, ale in hand, eagerly relating his tale to Grimfang, commander of the Outpost. The armored orc was still skeptical.

"Are you certain they weren't regular furbolgs you just pissed off?" Zen gave him a withering look. "Alright, I'll send a unit to check it out. Two days north-east? If the taint has migrated this far west it could become a problem. We already have to deal with the Naga. Last thing we need are more barbarians to fight. Thankfully we haven't had problems with the night elves in a while," he added, rapping his big green knuckles on the counter.

"Cheers ta dat," Zen toasted.

"Speaking of, I hear you picked up a nightsaber from their camp," the orc hedged. Wondering how he knew, Zen was slow to answer. "Small town," offered Grimfang, reading Zen's silence for what it was.

"Yah, found 'er in a cage 'hind da huts. Taught she were dead at first, but she a strong ting. I tink dem beasts was beatin' on 'er fo' fun. By da looks o' 'er dey had 'er fo' months. Fo' you ask, I ain't seen no night elves aroun', no' any sign o' 'em. Meh'be da furbolgs kill 'em. You know 'ow them kal-dorei be meetin' wit da ones at Timbermaw. Meh'be dey try ta meet wit da corrup't ones too."

"Yes, I've heard about that. Their druids have had some success with cleaning the taint from the ones that aren't too badly infected, but I believe the Sentinels generally just slaughter them if they show any aggression. In that, I have to say I agree with them."

At that moment Zen's attention was diverted by a voluptuous orc woman making her way across the common room. She was dressed in leathers that fit her like a glove and showed off quite a bit of cleavage. "Well, been a pleasha speakin' witch yah, Command'r."

Grimfang, seeing where Zen's focus had drifted, just chuckled and slapped him on the back, nearly causing the troll to inhale the ale he was sipping. "Have fun trying to tame that one," he laughed as he went to find more attentive company. Zen just smirked at his retreating back. The orcess sauntered up to the bar and slid onto a stool a couple down, the bartender handing her a drink without even asking. Zen chugged the last of his ale while mapping out his plan for seduction.

"So what be your name sweet ting," he purred, sidling up and tugging on one of her high ponytails. The orcess just gave him a sly smile and took a sip from her tankard. As far as Zen was concerned, foreplay was overrated and ended right after making ones intentions known. He'd wandered the width and breadth of the Horde territories of Azeroth, and had enthusiastically partaken of the varied female delights of all the Horde races. Well, except for the forsaken. There just wasn't anything remotely sexy about a woman with her bones showing. He especially loved the fierceness of troll and orc women, and the fiery passion they brought to bed … or against a wall, behind an inn, in a boat. He wasn't particular. Zen wasn't interested in anything beyond an encounter or two and the frenzied release it brought. He entertained no plans of settling down, and made no effort to get to know the objects of his physical interest beyond which positions made them scream the loudest.

Half an hour later he was in his room, ponytails wrapped around both hands as the orcess licked him like a lollypop. He was balls deep, pounding her from behind, before he learned her name, which happened to be Lursa. Easy enough to remember. Probably. She was quite vocal about her enjoyment, and he was sweating bullets when he finally came hard and collapsed beside her. She was gone in the morning, just the way he liked it.

He woke pleasantly sore from the previous night's exertions. Deciding to go check on Laur'ke before breakfast, he threw on a tunic and linen pants. The Innkeeper leveled him with an annoyed look as he entered the common room. "I 'ope we didn' make too much noise," Zen said casually.

The innkeeper snorted. "Not at all. I'm sure they didn't hear you in Orgrimmar." Zen just smirked and winked, swaggering out the door. On entering the stable, he found Lar'ja still asleep (no surprise there,) and Laur-ke wide awake and grooming herself. He'd just gotten to her stall when he heard a high pitched squeal and his knees were taken out from behind. He found himself flat on his back, his face being slobbered on by an overly friendly black boar. Hearty laughter could be heard coming down the aisle, as he shoved the beast off and attempted to wipe away the slime. Soon a familiar face and pigtails were looking at him upside down.

"Whatchu be laughin' at woman? 'Elp me up." Lursa just giggled and did as he asked.

"Sorry about that. Targol loves everyone he meets. It just happens he wants you on his level to tell you about it."

"Yah, well, I could do wit'out 'is kinda greetin'." The orcess, apparently prepared, handed him a towel to wipe his face. "So whatchu doin' in 'ere wit your beastie runnin' amok?"

"Actually, I'm the stablemaster." Zen looked at her, a bit chagrinned, wondering if she'd told him that last night and he was too busy staring at her tits to process it.

"I taught de ole man was," he diverted.

"That's my dad. He taught me everything I know, and still helps me out when he's up for it. So this pitiful thing is yours," she turned looking over the partition at Laur-ke? The saber was looking back and forth between them, puzzling something out. _Yep, she's a smart one. Too smart. Gonna have to watch what I say around her lest it come back to bite me in the ass…with eight inch fangs. _Seemingly finished with her brooding, Laur-ke went back to grooming herself, pointedly ignoring her visitors.

Zen wasn't entirely pleased with this turn of events, since he generally preferred to forget all about his conquests the next day. Granted there were a few notable exceptions to that rule. Lursa was good, but she wasn't _that_ good. Couldn't be helped now, though. "Yah, she mine. Gonna fix 'er up and be da only troll in Kalimdor wit a nightsaber as a pet." The orcess didn't look convinced, but he chose not elaborate. "I tink I be takin' 'er fo' a walk on da beach dis mornin'. She need ta stretch 'er legs if she gonna get 'trong." With that he retrieved his pet and made his escape.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews! How am I doing with the troll accent? It's a lot harder than I thought it was going to be. Also, I'm no WoW lore scholar. If I get something glaringly wrong, please let me know.**

* * *

_A week we have been in this place, and with every passing day I feel stronger. My wounds are fading and I'm shedding the patchy dead fur that signifies my starvation. In its place I grow a new hide that is sleek and soft. I admire my reflection in the water as we walk along the beach. Yes, I can still see my ribs but I believe I am a pretty specimen regardless. Zen is humming a familiar tune. I have heard it many times now and know it by heart. I wish I could sing along with him, but alas my throat does not make such sounds. Sometimes I dream that I am singing, though I wonder how I would know what it feels like. Last night I dreamed of purple and blue and pink figures singing in unison, dancing hand in hand in an intricate pattern. I was among them, my voice joining theirs, my feet knowing the steps. We were in some sort of glade, with stone pillars and arches. So many people, each with five fingered hands, five toed feet, and long delicate ears. Every one of them with glowing silver eyes. Even now, I could still hum the tune and recite the words, except I can't. But I remember as though I could._

_I wish I could tell Zen about it. Perhaps he could explain. Instead I listen, ever silent, as he teaches me more of his words. He has tested me several times, giving me a word and expecting me to show him the object. I pass with flying colors. So now he teaches me the ugly language as well. He calls it Orcish. I would just as well not learn it, but it is what most people in this place speak and it is helpful to understand. In that sense it is almost as though Zen, Lar'ja and I have our own private method of communication, that only we can understand. Actually, I like that idea. It makes our relationship special. Let others have their rough speak, we will keep the beautiful words for ourselves._

_Zen has not mated with the orcess since that first night. Or if he has, they have both washed themselves clean of the other's scent. This pleases me greatly. I do not wish to share him with another female, though mating is the furthest thing from my mind. I only wish to keep his affections to myself. Selfish perhaps, but I cannot help it. I have no choice but to interact with her in the stable, however I make it clear that I merely tolerate her presence. Zen has become friendly with another female, this one a troll, which bothered me until I scented a male on her. A thick scent, one that speaks of regular mating. Since she is not trying to attract Zen, I am friendly with her. Murukai is lovely to look at. Her skin is a bright blue and her hair a shining copper red which she wears in braids. I am intrigued with her tiny tusks, so delicate compared to Zen's. They jut toward the sky but are only an inch or two long. She laughs when I get close to her face to examine them. _

_Zen and Murukai speak in the beautiful language, which means I can understand much of what they say. She speaks of creatures called Naga that live in the sea. She says they are vicious and attack those on land. I wonder what kind of fish can walk on land. It seems impossible, but then so do many things, to me at least. It is a beautiful day, the sun shining brightly, reflecting off the golden sand. Lar'ja and I lay side by side, listening as the two trolls make a plan to hunt the naga-creatures. Zen says we shall go in three days, enough time for me to gain some more strength and training. He and I have been practicing, leaping from boulder to boulder in the shallow water, tree limb to tree limb on the edge of the forest. Yesterday I even caught a squirrel, which I presented to my master like a prize. He praised my efforts and told me it was mine to do with as I pleased. I tried very carefully to remove the skin with my fangs and claws, thinking Zen would like if for his collection. I botched the effort, and punctured the skin many times, but still I presented him with my paltry effort. There was an expression of shock on his face, as though he never expected such a thing from me. Why? Because I'm an animal? That doesn't seem fair._

* * *

Zen had been doing his best to avoid Lursa, though it was impossible with how often he was in and out of the stables. Finally she cornered him and smacked him upside the head, telling him she _did_ understand the definition of a one-night-stand. Once he realized they were on the same page, the awkwardness disappeared, mostly. Maybe he'd see if she wanted another roll in the hay his last night in town. In the mean time he'd come across a gorgeous lady troll by the name of Murukai. His first instinct was to go chasing after her too, but that could only end in disaster and catfights. The problem was solved when she informed him she was married to the local weaponsmith, a very large orc by the name of Dagrun Ragehammer whom Zen had no interest in tangling with. Sexual tension-issues resolved, he was only too happy to have another Darkspear to reminisce with.

While Zen had been born when the Darkspear still lived in Stranglethorn Vale, Murukai was a little bit younger and had been born on the Echo Isles, after the great battle with the Sea Witch. That episode had cemented his healthy dislike for Naga, and his unwavering loyalty to Vol'jin and Thrall. Instead of migrating to the isles with the rest of the tribe, Zen made straight for Orgimmar to join the Horde Army. He had fought at the Battle of Mt. Hyjal, right beside the night elves, and while he wouldn't say he liked the Kal-dorei, at the time he hated to see the devastation wrought upon their lands. Less than a year later, the Scourge arose and Arthas became the icy Litch King. For ten years, Zen was a good Horde soldier. He went where he was told, fought whom he was pointed at. His skills were such that he was an invaluable asset on raids, his arrows always finding their mark. He wasn't too bad with a blade either. At that point he had a whole slew of pets under his control. When the Litch King fell, Zen had decided he'd had enough. He was tired of the military life and wished to live a more peaceful existence on his own, no one to order him here, there and everywhere to fight this foe and that. So he released all his pets but Lar'ja and disappeared into the wilds of the world. For over two years now he had wandered and hunted, and couldn't be happier.

After reminiscing with Murukai for a while, she proposed a Naga hunt. It had been quite some time since he'd had a crack at the aquatic beasts and he was eager for a rematch. It would be good experience for Laur-ke, though he intended for her to stay on the periphery of the battle since she wasn't up to full strength yet. She'd surprised Zen more than once with her intellect and ability. He was certain that she was well on her way to being fluent in Zandali, quite the feat for any pet, and was readily learning Orcish as well. Though she seemed to turn her nose up at the harsh language, which he found endlessly amusing. She shocked the fel out of him just the day before when she'd attempted to skin a squirrel with her teeth. He'd _never_ had a pet do anything like it. They all just killed and ate what they caught, or let him skin and butcher it first if that was the object. It was simply the strangest thing in the world that an animal would attempt something so…civilized. There really was more to this saber than met the eye.

He snapped his attention back to Murukai, who was describing how she wanted to approach the Naga lair to the north. Apparently she had a friend coming in to help as well. Between the three of them, and Zen's two pets, she hoped to take out a good number of the creatures.

"Would you mind being a model of sorts for me," Zen asked her, once they'd hashed out their initial attack plan.

"Um, ok," she replied, cocking her head in confusion.

"Com'ere Luar-ke," Zen called. The saber padded over in her graceful way. He just positioned Murukai where he wanted her, before directing his gaze to his pet.

"Now girlie, to want to show you how you need to attack Naga to inflict some damage. Those critters are about Muru's size here, maybe a bit bigger, but have tails like a fish," he indicated with a sweep of his hand from her waist to the sand. Some of them have more than two arms. You're going to have to watch out for the spines. The best places for you to grab'em will be the throat," he mock strangled Muru as she rolled her eyes, "or by the end of their tails. If you get the tail, be sure to drag'em backwards, get them flat on the ground, and then one of us can take their head off. Got that my girlie?" Luar-ke purred her assent. Zen gave her a nod and turned back to Muru. Luar-ke saw her opening and skirted around behind him. As gently as possible she wrapped her fangs around his ankle. With a quick close of her mouth and a yank Zen went sprawling on his stomach, tusks embedded in the sand. Muru was doubled over in mirth and even Lar'ja was chittering in reptile amusement. Zen yanked his tusks free and spun around ready to pounce. Laur-ke was already loping down the beach tail wagging in a taunt. "I'm gonna get you damn cat," Zen roared as he took chase.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Many, many apologies for how long it took to get this chapter out. Life was a pain this week, plus I've never written a battle scene before and it was kicking my ass. Several rewrites later I hope you all are pleased with the result. I promise the next chapter is almost finished and will be posted asap.**

* * *

_Tomorrow morning we go to fight the Naga-creatures. I admit I am very excited. I can remember fighting nothing but the bear-men, and that was hardy "fighting," however my body thrums in anticipation as though it remembers the thrill of battle. Was there a time that I fought before? Perhaps beside someone other than Zen? The voice neither confirms nor denies. We've been to see Muru's husband, the weaponsmith, where Zen had him craft an armored collar for me. Apparently it will protect my vulnerable throat from spines and teeth. It's very beautiful, with fine scrolling patterns that remind me of Zen's tattoos but feels strange and heavy about my neck. Zen promises I won't have to wear it except when we're fighting. I suppose I can live with that. We're now standing in front of the store while Zen and Muru confer. The sunset is lovely this evening, all fiery reds and oranges like the forge at our backs._

_A shriek from above. I look to the sky and see a large, winged shape descending toward us. The creature spirals slowly, riding the wind currents, until the last moments when it plummets to the ground like a stone, shaking the earth beneath my feet. A big red stone, not so dissimilar from Lar'ja, except with wings. I am so distracted by the flying reptile that at first I miss its passenger. When I finally notice him though, I am struck still as a statue. The voice, which had receded to the recesses of my mind comes roaring back to the front. He has pale skin, golden like the sand on the beach. Long black hair frames a refined face free of tusks, and cascades around long delicate ears. His hands sport five slender fingers, and I suspect his feet do as well. He is dressed in thick armor, which lends bulk to his otherwise lithe, but muscular frame. The voice has become a loud drone in my mind. It's hasn't been this loud in days. Actually, I don't think it's ever been this loud. Stop buzzing already and just tell me what the problem is! _

_Obviously the voice is upset about the creature before me. It must be something very important. Dorei, dorei, sin'dorei… the voice begins to chant. Is that supposed to mean something to me? Yet there is something so familiar about him. Not him personally, I'm certain I've never encountered this "sin'dorei" in my life, but something… Why can't you be more specific, voice? He dismounts and greets Muru with a hug and Zen with a firm handshake. They're speaking in the ugly Orcish. I catch about every fourth word. The sin'dorei glances my way, then turns, eyes wide in surprise to take me in fully. They glow green, his eyes, the way mine glow silver. I catch bits of what Zen is saying, explaining about me and how he found me. I'm always a curiosity it seems. Why though? Others here have pets. What makes me such an oddity? The sin'dorei comes closer, scrutinizing. The voice is giving me that warning buzz again. Danger. But it's done that with every creature we've met. I think I'll go back to ignoring it. _

_"Luar-ke, this is Calarin Lightfall. He's a Blood Elf," Zen tells me in Zandali. Any friend of Zen's is a friend of mine. I purr and rub my head against the proffered, five-fingered hand. An image flashes through my mind of an identical hand, only purple, gently stroking my hair. It so fleeting I brush it off as my imagination. Zen walks me back to the stable and gives me a good scratching before making his way to the inn and his colleagues. I would much prefer to hang out with everyone at the back, but such is not my lot. My dinner is waiting for me. As I eat the delicate fillets of meat and fish, I contemplate the strange reaction of the voice and what it could possibly mean. There are just so many blanks yet to be filled in. Not for the first time I find my lack of memories frustrating. I must have had a life before the furbolgs, but what? Why can't I remember? I ponder these mysteries until I am lulled to sleep by Lar'ja's rumbling snores._

* * *

The dawn is just a faint glow on the horizon when the party sets out north. Zen on Lar'ja and Muru on her own raptor, Luar-ke loping along out front. Calarin soared above them on his proto-drake. The adventurers had had a nice meal the previous evening, and a few rounds of ale, as Calarin was brought up to speed. Zen typically found blood elves to be haughty, elves in general actually, but this one was quite pleasant and ready to be friends with everyone he met. He was a paladin and had befriended Muru several years earlier when she'd been doing some training in Silvermoon City. He certainly had a troll's ribald sense of humor, and that in and of itself made Zen like him.

According to Muru, the naga lair was a three hour ride up the coast. It was just mid-morning when they arrived, and the sea-abominations weren't likely to make an appearance until close to dusk. They spent the remaining hours of the day scouting the area and finalizing their plan of attack. Zen laid out traps in such a way as to funnel the creatures into an open area ringed with the long ruined fortifications of some lost city. As the sun made its descent, they took up their assigned positions, Zen on high, ready to rain down arrows from above with Laur-ke perched at his side. Muru, Calarin and the three mounts were hidden below. They'd lit a fire in the center of the clearing to draw the naga out. He could feel the nightsaber practically vibrating at his side. That alone told him she was no stranger to battle. Of course, in all likelihood that meant she was trained to fight his kind. Had she been to any of the major fronts? Warsong? Northrend even? He'd never know. And it didn't explain her easy comfort with Horde races. No, she couldn't have been a battle pet. That sort of hatred would have been ingrained in her. No stint with the furbolgs would have erased entrenched training like that.

Laur-ke was quite the mystery. One he was going to have to puzzle over later as the squelching sound of wet fish-skin over stone reached his ears. He placed a hand on her shoulder, a silent acknowledgement that he knew they were coming and she needed to wait. Laur-ke stilled under his touch, but her focus didn't waver. Across the clearing, two naga entered the light. They chittered back and forth, gesturing with their bulky arms, the one waving around his trident. The other, a four-armed female, shrieked back in the direction they'd come, no doubt calling others to aid the investigation. There were five in the clearing when the first trap was sprung. The loud boom and accompanying wail heralding the beginning of the battle. Muru and Calarin leapt into the fray, swords slashing, while Zen's arrows brought silent death to those they struck. One beast shoved its way past, making for the hunter. Zen, occupied with covering the others, felt Laur-ke launch herself at her prey. He watched his pet from the corner of his eye, her feral grace mesmerizing. She hit the sea creature in the chest, bowling it over, claws sinking deep. Her dagger-like fangs sank into its throat, spilling hot blood down her gullet as she snapped its neck.

Immediately she was on to the next, which was engaged with Calarin, effortlessly dodging a swipe from its spiked tail. She grabbed the offending appendage and hauled back, just as Zen had taught her, causing the fiend to fall to its belly whence the blood elf separated its head from its neck. The three mounts had closed in from behind, herding as they attacked, slashing and ripping with tooth and claw. His arrows spent, Zen dropped from his perch and entered the melee, his own sword clashing with a gold trident. The naga held her own, pushing back against him, using her free set of hands to swipe at his belly. Zen leapt out of range, calling to Luar-ke to take her from behind. There was a bit of fumbling as they worked out a fighting rhythm, but soon they were acting as one, an orchestrated dance of death.

The final body count was twenty-two, with only a few scratches among their team. Laur-ke had a small puncture on her hip where a tail spike had caught her, while Zen had a few parallel claw marks running down his bicep. They were all huffing and grinning at their success, slapping one another on the back. Zen dropped to a couch and pulled Laur-ke into a big troll-ish hug, ruffling her fur and scratching around her ears. "You my girl are a wonder! I am suitably impressed." Laur-ke, caught up in the moment, couldn't help herself and licked his cheek. Zen just smiled like the sun and hugged her some more. The crew took their trophies from the kills and retired further down the shoreline for the evening. Around the fire, they recounted the battle and passed around a flask, laughing and joking long into the night. Zen made himself quite comfortable with Laur-ke as a pillow. The saber didn't seem to mind and soon the rhythmic throb of her purring, which soothed from head to toe, lulled him into a dreamless sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: **I've been aiming for Luar-ke's POV to show how her personality is developing, or reappearing I should say, as she's healing and her memories are ever so slowing starting to come back. Is that how it's coming across? Also, the first person who can figure out the ruse behind Laur-ke and Lar'ja's names gets a cookie, or a gold star. Or maybe a cookie with gold stars in it.**

* * *

_We're on the road today and I'm ignoring the troll. If I could speak I'd be giving him the silent treatment. I'm so angry I want to hiss and spit at him, rake my claws down this back, leave a few scars of my own. I cannot believe the bastard mated with that orc again! And then, to come stumbling into my stall in the morning, hung-over, reeking of her like it means nothing to me. How dare he! I have feelings too! But did he take those into consideration? Of course not! Because he's just some horny, bloody troll who can't keep it in his pants._

_I glance at Lar'ja. He doesn't seem perturbed in the least. What's the matter with me? Why does it even matter who the asshole fucks? Elune, help me, I'm starting to curse like a troll now too. Damn him. Am I jealous? Is that what this aching in my gut is? And for that matter, who is Elune and why did I just call on her for aid? I'm so confused._

An hour later …

_We've passed what, three springs? And he still hasn't stopped to wash that foul stench off?!_

Another hour later …

_Praise Elune, whoever you are, another spring. Let me just get a drink. Oh good, the prick is getting a drink too. That's right, just lean over a little more. _**SPLASH**. _That was just too easy_. _Oh dear, he looks pissed. Really pissed. Wow, did his eyes just go completely red? I had no idea they could do that. Good thing he's still kind of drunk, he'll never catch me. I think now would be a good time to go hunting. Alone._

A few hours more…

_I can see the firelight through the trees ahead, and blessedly, the scent of clean troll in lieu of orc tramp. I creep up silently to scope out the situation, finding Zen relaxing cross-legged beside the flames, wheystone in hand, sharpening his dagger. Hmm, that's not reassuring. I wonder if he's planning on skinning ME? I'll never know if I don't take a chance. Hopefully he's forgiven me now that he's dry. I'm not really keen on getting stabbed tonight. I enter the ring of firelight, but he doesn't even turn to look until I lay my offering at his knee; a fat young boar. I guess my stealth skills aren't as good as I thought. He stares at it for a few minutes, too long… "You can breathe again, girlie; I ain't gonna make a rug out of you." Oh right, sweet oxygen! "I don't know what's had your tail in a kink all day, but I'll accept your apology." Seriously? Is he really that obtuse?! I want to smack him and remind him I'm the one that really deserves the apology. I thought our relationship meant something more. Ok, breathe: in, out. Count to ten and let it go. Take the high road. It's not like I can explain myself anyway. He only sees me as his pet; just an animal. Honestly I don't even know why I've been so worked up about it. It's just that I feel… kinda… more._

* * *

He couldn't help but think that Ashenvale had the most beautiful nights of any part of Azeroth. At least any part that he'd traveled. The muted greens and purples of the foliage fading into the mist while fireflies created a visual lullaby; and above it all the deep blue night sky filled with endless numbers of stars. Zen snuggled up against his furry, purring pillow. It was becoming a habit they both seemed to enjoy. Once the bloodlust had worn off after his impromptu bath earlier, he'd nearly panicked fearing he'd driven her off for good. He made camp soon there after, determined to wait for her to come back to him. In his heart, Zen was sure their bond couldn't be broken by one tantrum on his part, but still the icy fingers of doubt crept up his spine. For the life of him he couldn't figure out what had possessed Laur-ke to knock him ass over tusks into the pond. She' been in a snit about something all day, but honestly he'd been too hung over to care. His heart had sighed in relief when he'd sensed her creeping up to the camp, and he'd spent several moments quietly contemplating the kill she had brought. Was she apologizing? He looked at her then and could see the anxiety written across her beautiful feline face. Would he ever understand this female?

Now, their friendship patched up, it was back to business. Zen's plan was for their little party to skirt the edge of Ashenvale, along the border of the Stonetalon Mountains. This would ideally prevent them from crossing paths with any Alliance, particularly Sentinels, while making their way to Malaka'jin and then Thunder Bluff, whence they could take the Zepplin to Orgrimmar to sell the skins they'd collected. It was a trip of several weeks, barring any complications, and he was looking forward to the solitude. Well, solitude coupled with the silent company of his two best companions.

Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't mind stumbling across the occasional Alliance operative and summarily dispatching them. He was a dutiful Horde member after all. Truth be told though, he was concerned about Laur-ke's reaction. What would happen if she saw a Night Elf? Would she leave him? Turn on him? The very thought that she might revert to viewing him as the enemy was like a knife in his gut. She could dump him in every pond they came across so long as she stayed by his side. He'd never felt a bond so strongly with any pet, even Lar'ja, and yet it was the strangest pet relationship he'd ever had. With his previous pets, he'd been able to form a sort of mental connection, allowing him to understand their basic thoughts. That was not the case at all with his nightsaber and it puzzled him. While they did not have a direct cognitive connection, it felt as though they were one being. It was like they spoke a language only each other could hear, allowing them to hunt and fight as a single entity, yet no words were spoken, no thoughts specifically shared. It was uncanny. He'd come to the conclusion that her bond with her previous master must somehow be preventing him from forming the usual connection. It was the only explanation that made sense.

Zen though back to his childhood, when he'd first known he wanted to be a hunter. It was his uncle that inspired him. Un'gar was a big blue troll with a shock of read hair, stereotypical Darkspear, with a fine set of tusks and an eye patch. He's come and gone throughout Zen's early life, never sticking around for more than a week or two at a time. Zen's mother tolerated her brother's nomadic ways, but was dead set on any of her children taking up after him. Of course, her disapproval made it just the forbidden fruit Zen craved. He was ten, when, during one of Un'gar's unannounced visits, he took to following his uncle, determined to watch and learn his trade. Of course the older troll knew the boy was there the entire time. He put on a show for his nephew, creatively killing a variety of creatures, from lions to crockolisks, working in perfect concert with his raptor and lava spider.

"You can come out now, boy," he called as he yanked the teeth out a fat crock's maw. Zen's mouth hung open in shock. He was so sure he hadn't been seen, having practiced for months stalking his parents and trailing other tribe members. Finally the youngster plucked up his courage and dropped from the tree he'd been hiding in, bracing himself for a good tongue-lashing. Except his uncle only laughed and roughed up his unruly blue mane. "Smile lad, I ain't mad at ya. You wanna be a hunter then?" At the boy's shy nod, Un'gar just laughed again. "I'll be happy to teach ya, just don't be squealin' to your ma or she'll skin me alive." Zen just nodded vigorously, smiling so big around his budding tusks that his face hurt. From then on, Un'gar had an eager pupil, and the young troll spent every hour between school and chores learning from the elder troll. Un'gar gave him lots for "homework" when he was off traveling as well. By the time of the Sea Witch's attack, Zen already had Lar'ja and was far more skilled than the other young trolls in the tribe. His mother of course found out, and never did forgive her brother, though he was still allowed to visit. And here he was now, incredibly skilled and successful at his chosen trade, with the best pets the Loa could provide, even if one was a cheeky cat who pushed him into ponds.

The next week or so of their journey was spent leisurely making their way along the edge of the forest, typically walking in the morning and hunting in the afternoon before making camp. Hunting with Laur-ke was nothing short of a thrill. She was so graceful, so in tune. Zen would talk to her as though she were an other person and he had the distinct feeling that she understood everything he said, and would have shared her opinions readily if she could. Sometimes he forgot she was merely his pet. If he was truly, deeply honest with himself, and he absolutely wasn't, he wished she was a woman. He'd never questioned his bachelor lifestyle, always convinced he was as content as he'd ever be, but sometimes, just sometimes, he'd find he wanted more. Laur-ke was everything, ok, almost everything, he'd want in a woman. At least a woman he'd be willing to claim as his own. She was beautiful, intelligent and gentle. A fierce fighter and skilled hunter. And she'd proven time and again that she had a sense of humor to match his own. Why couldn't he find a woman like her? For that matter, why couldn't she be a woman? Loa help him, he _was not_ falling for his cat.


	10. Chapter 10

_It's a warm summer evening in Ashenvale. The sun set not long ago and the night-blooming flowers raise their faces to the moonlight. I stand nude on a balcony in the trees above, waters of the lake below shining like a great eye. From this vantage point I can see the sacred gates and the shadowy figures that pass through them. I sense him behind me before warm arms wrap around my waist. Smooth, soft lips caress the slope of my neck, tasting the delicate skin. I lean back against a hard chest, molding my body to his, my glowing eyes closing in pleasure. He growls low, pressing his hardness against my ass as he nips my shoulder with delicate fangs. I tilt my head to capture his eyes with my own._

_Those eyes are amber mirrors set in dusky purple skin a few shades darker, with forest green hair cascading over this shoulders to mingle with my own ivory. I attack those smooth lips, conveying my want with force, sliding my tongue along the seam to demand entry. He enthusiastically surrenders to my offensive. Soft hands caress my back, leaving tiny trails of fire, dipping lower and diving between as he captures a dark nipple, nibbling in ways that cause me to gasp. I feel him smile against my peaked flesh when his wayward fingers find the wetness between my thighs. Oh yes, I am quite ready for him._

_I pull away and saunter to the low bed, swinging my hips in the way I know he cannot resist. Those same soft hands, still slick with my essence, grip my hips and toss me onto the feathery cushion. Before I can even sit up he is between my legs, attacking my core with lips, tongue and teeth; teasing my nub and plumbing my depths. I am lost in the pleasure of it, moans tearing from my throat like wild beasts. Soon long, slender fingers are reaching inside me, as though my release is a physical thing he can tug from my body. And perhaps it is, for I am gasping and writhing in ecstasy, my inner walls pulling those digits in, wanting to own them and keep them. Ahh, but there are other treasures to be had. I pull him up with a fistful of those sea-green locks, crashing my lips against his, tasting the delicate vintage that is myself. Then he is sliding inside in one long thrust, filling the void as I cry out his name. Alathdrus!_

_He sets a tortuous pace, pulling out so slowly I can feel every fraction of an inch. Pushing back in at a rate that has me begging; faster, please, faster. He ignores my pleas. He will draw this out until I am boneless and at his mercy. I lean up, catching a pebbled nipple between my teeth, biting just hard enough to break his rhythm and earn a gasp. I hook my foot around his knee and press my advantage, flipping us until I am the one in control. I ride him, setting the tempo, bouncing my hips as I climb the mountain again. My eyes are shut, senses turned inward to feel every quiver, every stretch and tingle. Large, hot hands grasp my breasts, calloused skin scraping the thin flesh in delightful ways. What the... I open my eyes and see red. Red eyes, blue gray skin, ivory tusks that frame my face. Rippling muscles clench beneath my palms, and I am filled beyond anything I've ever known. One rough hand grips my hip and the other the back of my neck. He thrusts up into me at a frantic pace. I can't think beyond the bliss. There is only the place we are joined and the lightening radiating through my body from it. I'm screaming! I'm falling! I'm screaming, Zen…_

_I startle awake, panting as though I've run miles and miles. Sleep disturbed, a blue head lifts from my side. It is questioning me, speaking in soothing tones, but I can't understand the words! My brain won't process them. My skin is aflame. I wish to roll on the ground, put out the fire, but a touch is all it takes. A warm blue hand strokes down my spine and the fire cools. The hand releases me and the fire flares. "Shh, my Luar-ke. It's alright, it's ok." The words make sense now, they cool me like his touch. Please, I beg. Please, whatever you do, don't let me burn._

* * *

Zen was jolted awake by Laur-ke's twitching and whimpering. _Whatever she is dreaming, it doesn't seem pleasant_. At his touch she starts, whining as though in pain. Her muscles are rigid and shaking, every hair on end. She struggles against him, eyes wild and unfocused. _What on Azeroth_… "Calm down girlie! It's just me. You're ok. Nothin' here to hurt you." Her silver eyes remained panicked and unseeing. "Shh, my Luar-ke. It's alright, it's ok," he crooned, petting and caressing her to calmness. It seemed ages before the feral look in her eyes slips away. Zen continued to stroke her soft ivory fur, whispering nonsense to her, drawing her back from whatever nightmare realm had tried to claim her. The great cat practically climbed into his lap, keeping as much of her body touching his as possible. She did not purr and her body remained tense, but she was no longer the wild creature of before. Any time Zen stopped petting her, she'd whine so pitifully and press closer to him that he'd resume him ministrations, unable to bear her in this state.

_What kind of dream could cause this?! _In all the years he'd had pets, Zen had seen them dream of running, and hunting, legs twitching and low, muffled growls disturbing his rest, but never had he seen a reaction like this. She was like a child who'd been chased through the Felwood by a pack of demons. _Was it a nightmare about the furbolgs?_ _Why after all this time though? _It made no sense.

The sun had breached the horizon by the time Luar-ke was calm enough that he could extricate himself from her. She still had a haunted look in her eyes, but at least she was no longer shaking. Zen rubbed his eyes and stretched the pins and needles from his cramped limbs. _So much for a good night's sleep_. Lar'ja was well rested of course. The raptor had a talent for sleeping through anything, including one particularly memorable attack by murlocs. They'd passed into the Stonetalons some days earlier, the lush greenery of the forest giving way to the thin pines and red sandstone of the mountains. Despite having spent a fair chunk of his life in hot dry regions, Zen had never really adapted. He was a jungle troll after all. Heat he could handle, but the dryness made his skin itch. If he ever did settle, it would definitely be somewhere moist and fertile. The touch of soft spotted fur shook him from his musings to find Luar-ke rubbing against his legs like a giant housecat, purring loud enough to vibrate his knees.

For the next three days, she spent every moment possible in contact with his skin. If he sat, she'd start grooming him like a cub, licking up his shoulders and neck with her sandpaper tongue, or attempting to lie in his lap again. If he was standing, she was rubbing her body against his legs and tucking her head beneath his hand. Zen was at a loss, and it was getting damn annoying. He took to riding Lar-ja just to get a moment's peace, and to save the skin on his ears which was now rubbed raw. Good thing they were almost to Malaka'jin and his Uncle Un'gar. _If anyone knows what the fel is wrong with her, that old troll will._

The next day Zen praised the Loa when the bone and hide huts of the small village came into view. It was little more than a hunting camp, though occasionally used as a base to launch raids on Stonetalon Peak. Or a place to interrogate captured night elves. He called out greetings to the troll guards at the perimeter, jogging Lar'ja up to the raptor pen before dismounting. Like magic a cat was attached to his knees. Zen groaned.

Nearby, several large carcasses hung from a rack in various stages of butchering, a rather fetching troll woman wielding the knife. Normally, after several weeks on the road, Zen would have prioritized getting into her pants, but for some reason today he found that desire absent. Maybe tomorrow. Yellow smoke rose from the main lodge and the sound of chanting drifted from within. _Witch Doctor Jin'Zil must be up to something. If Un'gar can't figure out what's wrong with Luar-ke, maybe he'll have some voodoo potion that can restore her sanity, or mine._ Right on cue, a tall blue figure with a shock of red hair hailed him from a nearby hut.

"So ya finally saw fit to come visit ole Un'gar ya ungrateful brat."

"Hey Uncle," Zen called, attempting to walk his way without tripping over Luar-ke.

"What, by the ancestors, you be doin' with an elf's sabercat wrapped around your shins?"

"Yeah, well, I was hopin' you could help me with that."

"Come on then," he ushered troll and feline into his home. "We'll have us a smoke and you can tell me all about your pussy problem." Zen just cringed as the old troll bellowed a laugh and slapped him on the back. Some things never changed.

The hut was a simple affair; permanent, but barely. The walls were stitched hide over poles, encircling a central firepit. A few voodoo carvings and Un'gar's weapons were all the décor needed. They lounged on a pile of furs, passing a long pipe back and forth while Zen explained how he'd ended up with a night elf pet. Every five minutes or so he was forced to shove Laur-ke off. She was persistent in her plans to groom him though, and apparently right now it was impossible to hurt her feelings.

"I'm not gonna have any skin left she keeps this up," Zen griped.

"I think it's cute how she's doting on you," the elder troll snickered. Zen just rolled his eyes.

"What am I supposed to do with her like this? I can't hunt. I can't even sit down for Loas' sake! Laur-ke, will you _get offa me_! Go groom Un'gar or somethin'."

"Oh, she ain't got no interest in me," Un'gar stated with authority. "She be a pretty thing though. And quite the catch, if you're to be believed." Zen smiled a bit at that, thinking it was the truth. Despite her current antics, he would never willing give her up.

"So what's wrong with her? Could she have picked up a curse somewhere?"

"Oh, I wouldn't be worryin' about it. It'll be over in a few days."

"Really?" Zen looked equal parts relieved and ecstatic. "You know what it is then?"

"It's simple boy. She be in heat. And since I don't see any other sabers around here, that makes you the sole object of her affections."

Zen groaned. "I think I'd prefer her cursed." Laur-ke just resumed licking his ear.


End file.
